seekevolution | Quarantine

Quarantine

News had a way of spreading a little too quickly. The moment Nathan had fallen at the press conference, media began having it's field day. Mohinder paid little attention.

He arrived at Odessa fourteen hours after the incident, severely jet-lagged and with a computer pre-loaded with all of the information that the Company thought he'd need. Mohinder had been down this road before, though never with such dire circumstances. The Shanti Virus was a subject near and dear to his heart, though it was far less stressful when all he needed to cure it was a bit of blood. Even though it was his own blood, at least he felt as if he was doing something.

Knowing from experience that not everything was black and white anymore, Mohinder kept his laptop and medical kit close at hand and made his way to the quarantine line with a grim look in his redrimmed black eyes. "Mohinder Suresh," he said, forgetting his title again for just a moment. "Doctor. You need to let me through."

The National Guard service man looked wary before radioing it in through the barricade. It was tense. Mohinder's shoulder bag slipped twice and he nearly dropped his sample kit. "All right, cleared to go in. Good luck, doctor."

Mohinder nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. He'd gone from New York to India and back again in two days, bringing Molly to stay with his mother. After what Sylar did to her, again, he could not risk leaving her in anyone else's care. Not with Matt gone.

Seeing the man, however, after he'd just gone off on this quest to find his father at the expense of helping him with a child they both sort of promised to look out for, did not make Mohinder smile. If anything, it only made the lines on his face etch in more deeply. He stood in front of him, looking as tired as Mohinder felt, ill fitting clothing a bit more rumpled than usual. Never mind, of course, that Mohinder had done his fair share of leaving too on his attempts to bait the Company through lectures across the globe. "Do I have a lab yet?" Mohinder asked. No greetings. No necessities. That's what happens when you abandon people, Matt.

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Matt didn't have to think about that very long at all. He'd taken a look around earlier, after all, and the Moores had a completely passable DVD collection.

"Uh, yeah, why not." He shot Mohinder a teasing smirk and then added, "They do have Disney movies, you know. If you prefer."

They didn't have the biggest stack of movies at home but Beauty and the Beast had seen its fair share of watchthroughs to the point where Matt thought he actually knew one or two songs by heart. He was sure Mohinder had it even worse, since he could sing.

In the end he wound up suggesting a classic Bond flick and after getting Mohinder's nod of approval, he started figuring out the DVD player. It wasn't long before he was seated in one corner of the couch with the remote control on the arm rest, his head in one hand. It was nice to get something else to focus on and he was happy to let his mind drift. You wouldn't catch any thoughts from people on-screen.

It wasn't really Mohinder's sort of film, but with his shoes off and one more day's worth of stress under his belt (the fruit of which waits for them on the mantle in the form of a file folder and a mobile phone), he could get just a little relaxing done. By the end of the third scene, however, the Indian, on the other end of the sofa, had gradually sunken into the cushions, twisting about with knees up and head cradled in the overstuffed pillow back. He wasn't quite asleep, though his blinking slowed considerably as the story played out.

His thoughts turned into a dull, low, meaningless drum..until they weren't. When had Matt started seeing rather than just hearing thoughts? When had he been able to first start peering into dreams, to push back the jungle fronds and gaze at them, mist covered, as if they were a movie until themselves?

Perhaps it was more than people narrated their dreams, they gave verbal descriptions to the images their minds produced to help them sort it out better.

In the end, it wouldn't matter. Mohinder's somewhat happy dreams about making sandwiches for Matt and Molly turned into nightmares centred on Sylar, on cold dead blue eyes of a little girl pinned to the ceiling with cutlery, of Matt having his head sawed open by maniacal fingertips.

Large, brown eyes bore down on Mohinder himself, the dream image shaking like a leaf, as Sylar with Matt's power tore open all of his thoughts.

Shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, he was unable to scream, unable to wake. The repercussions of Peter's little journey in to the mind of the geneticist had torn open old wounds and added a few new ones.

He hadn't quite mastered images yet. They were slipping, dream-like to him as well unless he held them down, but he hadn't had any reason to realize this and put it into much practise. With he did with dreams was, he heard the lines. The surrounding sounds.

He wasn't paying attention to Mohinder's drifting thoughts at first because that was the entire point. He was lazily watching a film he'd seen a few times before because it didn't require the focus. But when the sounds of distress were suddenly both in his head and on the screen he turned his attention to Mohinder almost immediately, sad for his sake, understanding - he'd come to have a bit of an understanding on nightmares after listening to Molly's so many times.

He heard his own name, though. And the terror in it. When he shifted and leaned over Mohinder a little to listen better, blocking out the TV, he caught the fear almost like a physical thing and the brief understanding (whether it was the image that had swam to the surface or just the knowledge somehow) that it was Sylar pulling the strings ... Sylar and Matt, Sylar with something of his, the combination ... he swallowed, feeling sick and angry. It didn't take him long to get off the sofa to crouch by Mohinder's side and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up, buddy", he murmured, but the other man wasn't as easily woken as Molly usually was. And when the internal scream pierced through Matt's head his eyes widened and he took a firmer hold on his friend and, likely driven by the memory of what he'd managed to do for the poor girl when she hadn't woken up, he entered the dream in an entirely instinctive way. He wouldn't manage to explain how.

The images were all there. Everything was in all-too-clear detail, Sylar's eyes cold and calculating as he stood towering over Mohinder, Molly's corpse and Matt's own in the background in such a way you were unable to not look at them ...

It was a dream. Matt felt scared, but he'd done this before. When Sylar turned towards him, cold and calculating - hell, he looked like he was laughing - he tried to focus on Mohinder.

"Mohinder! Hey, man, come on. It's okay, it's a dream, you're dreaming. Let's get out of here ..."

Edited 2014-01-23 07:40 (UTC)

Looking from Sylar to Matt to the corpse and back again, Mohinder looked like he might break down. Of course, these were just his dreams, not dreams induced by a telepath like Matt and so Mohinder had a little more control over things than he'd had before. Sylar's laughing, maniacal face morphed, shifted to one of confusion. He spoke Mohinder's name as he looked at his hands, which seemed to dissolve into sand at his feet. Molly and Matt's bodies did as well. The walls followed, melting into water until the apartment morphed into the beach in India where Mohinder had said his farewells to his father's ashes.

The look on Sylar's face was mirrored in Mohinder's, lips slightly parted, eyes staring up at Matt's. "You died," he finally managed, the sound of the river lapping at the sandy silt and pebbles by their feet as it flowed around the shore. He lifted his hands to Matt's face, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck, thumbs at his ears. "He cut you open and--"

Wait. Mohinder's eyes darted around Matt from left to right at the horizon, before they snapped back to the telepath again.

"I'm-- Am I dreaming? Am I dreaming that you're standing here or are you-- Is this possible?" Leave it to Mohinder to find excitement so soon after being terrorized!

Matt looked a little sheepish, maybe even embarrassed. There it was again, the ... spotlight, the attention. But mostly it was about the fact that he'd just done it, just stepped into someone's dream like that. Hadn't reflected, planned ... it was like he'd slipped. And it was so weird. It felt personal somehow, like a breach of space, to have watched Mohinder's nightmare to even begin it. That, and just that he was able to to even begin with.

He looked away for a moment, altogether seeming a bit bothered.

"I, uh ... yeah." He was practically squirming. Was it guilt? Really? Did he feel guilty? He glanced up at Mohinder and then moved his own hands to his, to sort of dislodge them from around his neck. It was so damn close. "I don't know. I didn't really know I could. I just ... you were screaming, so I ..."

Though lowering his hands, Mohinder gripped Matt's instead of his neck so that their clasped hands rested between their chests. Yes, the Indian was actively holding onto them. Yes, he was giving Matt Disney Princess eyes, the sort entirely too familiar from Molly's movies. He was entranced--

That was the best word for it.

Matt's ability to manifest a new branch of his initial power from stress and the desire to help made so many more things possible. A growing ability-- Surely that was new! Could use of one's ability be like a muscle? Practice could produce more substantial results?

Though an analytic mind was at work, the romantic setting (including a breeze from the water to catch in his hair and the loose, white tunic he wore), the intimate embrace, and the gaze spoke of many other things. It might be a dream, but dreams, no matter how ephemeral, could still feel so real.

And wasn't that the point?

"You're utterly amazing," Mohinder breathed.

Matt stared. He felt alarmingly like that deer in head lights, that one that was sure to be run over at any moment and was both shocked and scared but irrevocably frozen in place. Cause he really, really was.

"Err", he managed eloquently, wanting to run but totally unable. Why were they holding hands? ... when did Mohinder start holding his hands? Not that it was exactly unpleasant but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in turn. Or what he wanted to do about it. Would it be offensive if he just let go? What was going on?

He licked his lips nervously before he answered, turning his head to look at the water and the dunes (and why was he nervous, what the hell?). "I'm really ... I'm really not, Mohinder. I don't even know what I did."

It seemed like he couldn't hear Mohinder's thoughts anymore, now that he was in them. Instead the landscape told him some of what was going on in the other man's mind. The water seemed at ease but the sunlight was really really bright and maybe that's why he didn't quite want to look Mohinder in the eyes. So damn bright. Jesus.

Perhaps a bit childish to still be holding hands like that, Mohinder was just too excited to let go. Perhaps he didn't even realize it, though, and more likely, he was simply on a whole new thought process.

Yes, the idea with Sylar holding Matt's abilities and then using them on anyone was a terrifying thing. But Matt growing into his abilities was wonderful. They might fight from time to time, but it was another example of just how much Mohinder did trust the American.

It wasn't until Matt wet his lips that Mohinder finally blinked and made a conscious effort to not only let go, but also take a step back. Barefoot on the banks of the river, he gave Matt another once over before he turned to face the river. "It's... It's useful. I would even say--"

"Eh--" A voice familiar but far off came on the breeze and Mohinder blinked, distracted, and found himself looking up at Peter from a slumped position on the sofa. Matt was kneeling at his feet on the floor and in reality, they were still holding hands.

Mohinder blinked and Peter looked embarrassed.

"I was worried there. You guys weren't answering and I heard a scream so--"

Matt sighed, freed his hands from Mohinder's, put his face in them and proceeded to take a deep breath. Now when he was back on the ground ... well, floor, whatever, his mind was reeling from the difference between hard solid reality and the fleeting existance and gentle buzz of Mohinder's thought world.

"No, yeah, we're fine", he informed Peter after that steadying moment, looking up at him from the floor with a mixed expression. "Did we, uh. What woke you up?"

Peter shrugged, looking sheepish. "I dunno."

Matt studied him for another moment but then decided that so long as Peter seemed okay, and he did for the moment, he didn't want to push. He glanced towards Mohinder before he fetched the remote, turned off the DVD and TV which had both been showing a blue screen since the movie had ended a while ago, and then left for the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

Peter turned towards Mohinder in turn, managing to look both curious and wary.

Mohinder was quiet as Matt took off and lightly scratched the back of his long neck before he pulled himself up. He was incredibly rumpled, nothing even a hand through his hair could fix readily. Peter's questioning glance was met with a smile, though Mohinder didn't put that much heart into it. He felt confused, moreso when he put together the events of the last few days.

Bringing up Janice, wanting a family, the way he'd been reddening around him-- Could Matt--? It seemed insane. He'd been with Janice for so long, dated her, married her-- It was Mohinder's turn to blush as he headed to the kitchen, Peter on his heels.

He had to admit though... Matt hadn't pinged as anything before, but he was warm, he was comforting-- The way he took care of Molly-- No. The way he took care of him was enough to take his breath away at the best of times. Delving into his dreams to save him, that moment on the beach in his mind... Mohinder was left grinning slightly down at the chili that as he gave it a good stirring.

"Mohinder, really, that was creepy, you guys were just frozen like that--"

"I was having a nightmare," Mohinder replied since Peter wouldn't leave it alone. "He managed to pluck me from it. Set the table."

"Set the table-- Mohinder, there's--" Peter fell silent when the older man glanced up at him and smirked a little. The current of Mohinder's thoughts, the way he looked, and the embarrassment Matt had displayed pretty much told him that he didn't want to know any more. That was their business. "Yeah, sorry. Fine. Wasn't trying to pry."

Mohinder would be in a fairly good mood for dinner. And that was unfortunate for Matt, who would certainly get the brunt of his intense gaze.

Edited 2014-01-23 19:50 (UTC)

It would probably be even worse for Peter, because even though he much like Mohinder had a habit of making bad decisions he wasn't emotionally oblivious the way Matt sometimes was. Or maybe it was more that Matt was emotionally out of shape, in a way. He hadn't dated for years and years, had fallen into a routine with Janice long before she divorced him, and even before that he'd kept a bit on the edge of things. He was attentive, you had to be when you were a cop. But he saw it a lot more between other people than between people and himself.

So he couldn't figure out the way Mohinder was watching him and alternated between giving him a questioning look in turn or just altogether trying to avoid eye contact at all. If Peter hadn't just lived through what was likely the worst personal tragedy for him, he might have had a field day. But as it was it mostly seemed to make him even quieter.

Matt, in an effort to keep everyone a team and also to keep some kind of topic on the table that kept Mohinder from looking at him like that, looked up at Peter and gestured towards the geneticist. "We got hold of Bennet. We might be out of here tomorrow, if we're lucky."

Peter looked up at Mohinder with that, clearly wanting to know the details. It was news to him - they'd only told him to please stay put, and he had, and he'd hated it.

"Yeah? And then what?"

"And then we go after Sylar." Mohinder was more than willing to have the quiet dispersed. This was a topic that they needed to discuss and it might as well be now. Noah could call at any time and once they were through with a decontamination procedure, he wanted to waste as little time as possible to track down the killer.

Peter didn't put down his spoon, though he was on his third bowl and probably would go for a fourth to fill up his hollow legs if there was any left. "Uh-- No offense, Mohinder, but don't you think you'd be better off with the CDC? You know, helping them with the virus?"

Mohinder had no idea that it was Peter that helped that very virus be unleashed, or he might have shot back with something a little more appropriate than: "I'm tired of him hurting the people I care about. I want to see it to an end. I know how to use a gun--"

"Again--" Peter did put down the spoon now and glanced at Matt for back up. "I mean, you saw what happened when Matt shot at him. I really don't think you should come, Mohinder. It's not safe."

Matt didn't appreciate the reminder and gave Peter a look that clearly showed it, but in the end he couldn't exactly argue that point. He'd very nearly died. The doctors had told him over and over that he was really lucky and how close of a call it had been and he had four very unflattering scars to show for that little attempt.

"It's not safe for anyone", Matt said bluntly, not wanting to take either side of the argument and feeling impatient that there even were sides to begin with. He looked briefly to Mohinder and then back again to Peter. "If we go after him, we gotta be smart about it. That goes for all of us. You're- look, Peter? You're the strongest we have. But no offense, you're kind of a loose cannon right now."

Peter opened his mouth to argue but Matt stared him down. In this situation, he probably was the most authoritative on the topic. He'd also had the least personal run-ins with Sylar, and that likely helped his judgment.

"Grief makes you sloppy." A pointed look on Peter which was then he turned on Mohinder. "Revenge too. I want the son of a bitch dead for all he's done too, but ..." He gestured towards himself, but really, they were all survivors of what Sylar had done. "It's not that easy. My vote? If we're gonna do it, we're doing it like a team."

He wasn't strictly on Mohinder's side just for that, though. If they did it Matt's way they'd all agree on what exactly the plan would consist of and act their parts accordingly. Everyone had to be suited to their jobs. And that's only if they could get a lead on Sylar to begin with.

A team. Yes. Mohinder's smile was a little warmer -- though perhaps he'd been singled out a bit with the 'revenge' quip. He felt much better about the situation, and yes, he might not have a power, but it was the same argument Matt had made before. He didn't need one. He had something else Sylar wanted.

Molly. Lists of specials. In a way, Mohinder had become Sylar's touchstone. Where did he keep going back to but that apartment in Brooklyn, the one Mohinder's father first brought him to? Perhaps that was another reason to move out of there, actually. Mohinder reached for Peter's bowl to fill it with another helping of chili as the youngest of the three gave in to Matt's guidance.

Peter didn't like it, didn't like the thought of getting anyone hurt when he could be hurt himself. And yet, he couldn't shake the thought that Mohinder really might be useful.

As bait.

He saw those memories, plain as day. Matt might have tried not to look, but Peter had ripped them open. Weighing what he knew about Mohinder, and the way that Sylar had only injured the geneticist slightly whenever they'd been together without really hurting him, he thought he might have something there.

Oblivious to Peter's thought process, Mohinder gave Matt a not so subtle 'thank you' look before breaking him off another piece of bread.

"I saw some beer in the refrigerator. It might do us all a little good to cool our nerves a bit."

Matt didn't quite catch what Peter was thinking but he didn't need to be a mind reader to tell that he was working on something from the way he ate slower and kept an eye on Mohinder. In turn, Matt shot him a look that was basically a warning, something that said to keep in line.

It was a short moment. He accepted the bread from Mohinder with a small nod of thanks, their fingers touching briefly, and took a bite out of it as he listened to the suggestion. And smiled a little crookedly.

"Just beer? I don't know about you guys, but I could for something stronger."

Honestly, at ths point ...

Peter looked surprised, but ultimately a slow smile to mirror Matt's appeared. Matt popped the rest of the bread into his mouth and stood.

"I'll clean, you scavenge."

Try not to kill each other.

The last thing Peter really wanted to do was drink, but when Mohinder found the Jack and some cola to go with it, he relented a little. Being with Matt and Mohinder wasn't anything like being with Nathan (the drinking aside), but he'd not had too many friends growing up and it was nice to have a little support when his world had just ended. It didn't matter the way that Nathan often treated him, it didn't matter that he'd been more of a pawn than a brother at times. He loved him. And Nathan loved him back.

Detecting a bit of sadness moving in when Peter started talking about playing baseball as a kid and his dad being too busy to go to the games, Mohinder poured them all a little more Jack than cola and nudged a bowl of crisps in the younger man's direction.

"My father wasn't that interested in my football games either," he said, a chance to commiserate as the world outside grew black. The lights inside the Moore's home caused the picture windows to turn into mirrors and as Mohinder smiled, the profile of his reflection did too. "What ever happens tomorrow, Peter... We all have to look out for one another. We might not have really grown up with a lot of support from our families, but that doesn't mean we can't support each other now."

Perhaps the 'something stronger' was a bad idea, Matthew.

"Think of us like a cell. Made up of individual parts, we do well. Matt is the ribosome...he breathes. And you! You create RNA-- Create every little strand you can! But apart, no one really helps the entire body do they? No." Evidently, he was imagining that he was teaching a kindergarten class now or something? "Cohesion! That is-- Have more to drink."

Edited 2014-01-24 00:18 (UTC)

Matt snorted, a sound that was quickly followed by a full-on chuckle. "Ribowhat?" Not that he really expected a proper explanation. Not that he was surprised to get a somewhat rambly one anyway. He was thoroughly amused.

Peter looked dubiously at Mohinder, obviously having never seen him even a little bit drunk. Matt didn't think he had either, but he was in a different position to Peter since he'd seen Mohinder relaxed before. Peter had likely only seen the professor type. Or the hurt type.

Matt liked the relaxed one, personally. He leaned his head into one hand and watched him for a moment, shaking his head.

"So the body- the body is the world, right? And it relies on a, a cell." He nudged Mohinder, teasing. "Sounds right up your alley, Doc."

The 'something stronger' was an excellent idea, what are you talking about.

Probably interrupting one or both of them when he thought of something, he raised a hand. "Hey, hey, hey, I thought of a toast. Hang on." He shifted the glass to his raised hand, cleared his throat and said, with great conviction, "Fathers are asses." And after a short beat: "To the asses."

Best toast ever! Mohinder lifted his glass, ignoring the slight swish of sugary liquid to fall over his knuckles. He probably should be banned from pouring duty for awhile, he'd overfilled their glasses. Peter was a little more reluctant, body processing the alcohol far better than the other two, but he lifted his drink up as well just in time for Mohinder to clink theirs together and send Jack dripping down both of their arms. Alas. At least everyone seemed calmer and Peter liked the camaraderie.

"Wait!" The Indian almost dropped his drink, recovering it before it could make too much of a mess on the table. Luckily, he'd already sipped quite a bit. "Wait, no! We are fathers now. And Peter will be a father one day. Soon enough."

He didn't want to perpetuate the ass cycle. Asses get a terrible reputation. Poor things.

"New toast!" Up, everyone, up with your glasses once more. "No never becoming like our fathers."

"Hear hear", Matt agreed heartily, clinking all their glasses together. Peter was starting to show that familiar little smirk and voiced his agreement to the toast as well, something which was more than good enough in Matt's book. He hadn't known Peter at any point, really. But he usually liked people and was glad to see the marked improvement in Peter's behavior, even if he still had a very undertandable tendency to drift off into silence on occasion.

For now though, he was looking at Mohinder in an amusedly critical way and when Matt followed his gaze he sort of had to share that same look with him.

Peter, falling back a bit into helper territory, got up and fetched a glass of water to press into Mohinder's hand with a clap to the shoulder. "Take it easy, there", he said with a cautiously amused look before he sat back down and Matt shot him a grin.

It wasn't too long after that before Matt started losing a fair bit of focus as well, but when he did he directed his attention towards Peter with a frown, asking how much it sucked, exactly, to not manage to get properly shitfaced.

"I get to laugh at your sorry asses in the morning", Peter retorted. "Enjoy your hangovers." Then he disappeared up the stairs, likely to get some sleep (and distance). Matt had half a mind to just stretch out over the table to do the same but it'd likely be a bad idea. He contemplated it a while though before he tapped Mohinder on the shoulder to call some attention to that predicament that was 1.43 am.

"Hey", he tried to say and yawn at the same time. "Geddup."

Water? Mohinder didn't think his bladder could hold any more to drink. At all. He stared at the water for a long time, looking through it at Matt's hands (as though that was a very important thing to have to worry about right now). They were larger, much larger than his own. He didn't think his thumb ring would fit on any of Matt's fingers at all. Perhaps the smallest one. He tried to get a good gauge for it, but his gaze kept slipping back to the water and that wasn't even remotely helpful.

At least half the bottle of whiskey was gone and a full two litre bottle of cola was ready for the trash by that point. Mohinder hadn't done as much hurting on it as Matt had, but there was a fair supply of both sloshing around in his stomach.

If Noah was going to get them out of here tomorrow, he better make it for later. The Indian was in for a terrible time in the morning.

At Matt's prompting, Mohinder pushed himself upright, nearly hitting his head on the low fixture over the table.

"Matt-- Matt." He steadied himself on the back of the chair. "Matt, the stairs are moving by themselves. That's bad, right?" Mohinder might be better off on the sofa. Forcing him to walk up the stairs could end in tears and broken bones.

If Noah could even figure something out tomorrow. He could just as well not manage to get them out of there at all, and that would be a real goddamn downer, and so Matt wasn't thinking about that at all. He busied himself by taking a firm grip on Mohinder's arm to steady him instead. He had to smile. Sorta laugh. This was ridiculous. Mohinder, the scientist, sounding genuinely frightened by a pair of stairs.

If you thought about it too long it sadly made complete sense given all they'd been through, but that wasn't nearly as funny, and so Matt wasn't quite thinking of that, either.

"C'mon, Einstein. Nice and easy now."

He tried to steer Mohinder towards and up the stairs. Mohinder was unsteady on his feet though and it didn't take Matt too long to put his arm around his friend's back instead, the other hand on the railing.

He laughed, way too amused at the whole thing.

"You're gonna haaate yourself in the morning, Mohinder. You really are."

"It seems pointless to hate yourself," he complained, leaning heavily against Matt as they made their slow ascent to the master bedroom. One of the other doors was closed, the guest room where Peter was staying and brooding, most likely. How long ago had it been when he'd left them be? How much more had Mohinder had to drink? He honestly couldn't remember. Shuffling now, Matt's arm still around him, Mohinder wrapped his fingers around the thicker wrist because the walls were closing in and the other door kept wiggling at him. It made him kind of want to wiggle too. Or perhaps that was his sudden plethora of knees, all wanting to buckle.

The thought made him laugh and he kept on laughing until he could safely step out of his shoes in the bedroom. "I want you to know. And I'm serious here, got it? Am I speaking Engllish? Oh God. I can't tell anymore. Doesn't matter. Read my mind-- Are you reading it? Good. Okay. Listen. You're-- you're one of the best men I've ever known. You are. And a damned good dad. The best. Janice was stupid to give you up. You--"

Hold on. He had to belch. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of it too, which might have looked better if his face wasn't still so bruised.

"I count myself lucky. Very lucky. I'm glad I know you." He gaze Matt an awkward salute before crawling into bed and falling on his face in the near middle of it. He said something else too, but luckily, that was too muffled to make out.

Matt wasn't entirely sure what to say to that and listened to the praise with a vaguely confused stare. He watched Mohinder as he spoke, though. He felt altogether unfocused and so he kind of zoned out on his friend's equally unfocused body language and gestures.

He didn't wind up saying anything, just kind of blinked when Mohinder was done like he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. Then there was a rather long moment before he yawned and toed his shoes off. Which took a few tries but it was okay.

"Move", he laughed faintly as he nudged at Mohinder who didn't seem at all inclined. Maybe he was asleep. This posed a problem as Matt needed space to sleep too, and he wound up considering this issue for way too long before he just kind of shoved-slash-moved Mohinder away from the center of the damn thing. He was a strong man, it wasn't too bad, but Mohinder was fairly uncooperative and so he had to nudge him into place quite a few times before he was happy with it.

Then he tossed a blanket over him, because why the hell not, he looked like he could use it, and halfway fell onto the somewhat-free half of the bed he'd created. Fell asleep almost immediately which was pretty awesome for a change. He'd regret not taking his clothes off when he woke up but at the moment it was such a relief to just pass out. It had been a really long few days. Way, way too long, for all of them.

Too much alcohol kept away the dreams, kept away all thoughts at all, and sleep was vaguely uninteresting for the first time since he'd come to America. There weren't the sounds of gunshots in the distance, of backfiring traffic, or people yelling. Everything was quiet. And calm. Everything else was a little too warm but Texas nights took care of that.

He didn't wake up first. Instead, he'd tucked himself up against Matt, arm around most of his waist as if he'd become Mohinder's personal, oversized teddy bear. The heat of the Indian's breath caught in Matt's shirt and spread in and out as he exhaled.

This close and the wiring looking curls that eluded taming without the right hair products were soft on exposed skin. Mohinder didn't seem to understand boundaries in his sleep, not pressed so close, fingers curled in Matt's shirt.

Matt woke from sounds downstairs drifting into his consciousness, but that wasn't what registered first. What did was the very obvious but not unpleasant sensation of someone lying next to him, close and warm. It took him a while to really want to wake up with that, happy to just drift in the coziness for a while, but eventually he stretched and hummed slightly and shifted when another small noise downstairs made itself known.

And that's when he realized that it was Mohinder he had to pry away from him in order to move. That sure was an ... interesting moment, and Matt may or may not have murmured an "Oh, god" when it him, but he managed to sneak out of the other man's hold fairly smoothly. It was just. Way more boggling and a little distracting than it should have been to his still-fuzzy mind. He remained in the room for a second before he turned and carefully stepped down the stairs to find Peter serving himself breakfast, looking a lot fresher than Matt would have hoped to feel.

It was light out, so that hurt. Matt was practically peeking through his fingers at Peter who shot him a look over his shoulder, looking like he was still deciding whether to find that funny or just kind of annoying.

"Stop- stop thinking", Matt said before Peter had figured out which option to go with and went to look through the cabinets for some painkillers, gesturing over his shoulder towards the younger man as he went.

Peter just shrugged and poured some more cereal onto his yoghurt. "Told you."

"Yeah, I remember. Doesn't mean you have to keep thinking it."

Matt wasn't actually in a bad mood though, all things considered, and the glass of water to wash the pill down with was a welcome one. He didn't eat yet though, just sat by the table for a moment, trying not to think about much of anything and trying not to listen to whatever Peter might be. He just had the instinctual feeling he didn't want to know what Peter was thinking at the moment, so he tried extra hard with that.

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